Martin Limon: G. I. Bones

We spent our last night together. I couldn’t sleep. Before dawn I woke her and promised her again that I would tell no one what I knew and that I would do everything to make sure that she was never punished for her crimes.

She patted me on the cheek and told me to go back to sleep.

The next morning, I saw Doctor Yong In-ja and her five compatriots off from a rickety wooden pier on a wharf at Kangnam Island. They were bundled warmly against the cold air and wore rain slickers to keep dry. She squeezed my hand as she climbed down into the skiff. The women unfurled a sail and the two men started heaving at the oars. They pulled away from the pier, confident that in the heavy fog they’d be able to slip past the South Korean coastal patrols and make their way into North Korean waters.

She waved to me one last time. As I waved back, she pointed at her belly, cupping it tenderly with splayed fingers as if embracing something precious. Then she smiled.

I watched helplessly as the smooth complexion of her face was enveloped by the cold morning mist.